


Always

by amessoffand0ms



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Love Confessions, Post-Episode: s02e03 The Reichenbach Fall, Post-Reichenbach, Sherlock makes a choice, Sherlolly - Freeform, bit of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-16
Updated: 2018-07-16
Packaged: 2019-06-11 11:05:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15314136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amessoffand0ms/pseuds/amessoffand0ms
Summary: Sherlock and Molly after the fall.





	Always

After she helped him to fall, to fake his death, Molly Hooper maked her way home.

Throughout the rest of her shift, her heart had been pounding. She hadn't even calmed down after she'd performed the fake post-mortem on Sherlock, after she'd put his "body" away in the morgue.

Molly sits in the tube, in an empty carriage. Her hands were still shaking, and she struggled to keep hold of her phone, she'd put some music on to distract herself-attempt to, at least.

Eventually, she came to her stop. Or rather, the train did.

She made her way home, and was shocked to find Sherlock sat on her sofa, in nothing more than pants.

"Erm." She blushed, trying not to stare at his rather fit chest. "Hello Sherlock."

He winced as he turned to look at her, and only then did Molly clock the cuts, scratches, and bruises on his body. The bruises were from falling on the airbag, but not the cuts and scratches.

"How?" She asked.

"When I scrambled up from the ground." He explained.

"Oh, okay." Molly replied, and noticed that a couple of the cuts had been patched up.

Deducing her confusion, Sherlock explained for her. "Mycroft took me back to the government base, and one of the medical minions tried to fix me up. They were annoying, so I came here.

"Okay." Molly said, somehow incapable of forming full sentences.

He winced again, and she snapped out of it, and fetched her medical kit.

She tended to his wounds, the room was quiet save for the sound of the breeze outside and Sherlock's occasional sharp breaths of pain.

"Right." The pathologist announced a while later. "All finished."

"Thank you." Sherlock smiled at her.

She put her medical kit back in the cupboard where it was kept, and he got redressed.

"Would you like something to eat?" Molly asked a few minutes later.

"Yes, please."

"Chinese or Thai?" Molly asked.

"Hmm..." He thought for a moment. "Chinese. Our favourite."

She smiled at this-one thing they'd discovered about one another on one of the occasions he'd sort comfort at her flat when Moriarty's trial got too much was that they had a shared love of chicken fried rice.

"Alright, I'll be back soon." Molly responded, and Sherlock knew that she'd go to her local takeaway herself rather than risk someone delivering it and spotting him.

He retreated into his mind palace, feeling a little baffled. Molly's hands on his skin, along with her doubting that she counted, had stirred up something within him.

_ "You're wrong, you know. You do count, and I've always trusted you." _

_ "I'm not okay." _

_ "What do you need?" _

_ "You." _

The way they'd looked at each other with such intensity... He'd wanted to kiss her, but the moment and mood and had been broken by him laying out the plan of how he was going to fake his death.

He wanted her-he wanted to-no, he did, love her.

Sherlock knew that Molly loved him back, but he didn't want to say anything.  _ Sentiment is a chemical defect, found in the losing side. _

Louder than that irritating voice however, was the one insisting that he didn't want to hurt her. He needed to take down Moriarty's network and convince the world that he was dead. He would eventually come back from the dead, but he didn't know how long it would take.

Sherlock's thoughts were interrupted by Molly, who came back bearing their dinner.

He helped her to set it out, the pair working together in companionable silence.

After that, they sat on the sofa and ate their meals, Molly put a rerun of Gilmore Girls on.

When they'd finished their meal, Sherlock washed and dried all the crockery, and put everything away.

When he made his way back into the lounge, Molly was almost asleep.

She looked beautiful, curled up on the sofa.

Sherlock decided there and then to tell her his feelings. Somehow, he knew that they'd survive the storm.

"Molly?" He murmured gently, placing a hand on her shoulder.

"Mm?" She asked with a yawn.

"I need to tell you something." He said.

"Yes?" Molly prompted.

"I have feelings for you... In fact, I think that I might love you. Mycroft says that sentiment is a chemical defect, he's wrong. It's not-it's strength. You're strong, the way you helped me today. The way you risked your life to help me. You do and always will count to me."

"I know. I've known that you've felt the same way ever since you came round after the case with Irene Adler... You fell asleep on the sofa and you muttered my name in your sleep.

"Oh." He nodded.

"I love you too." Molly replied, taking his hands in her own. "Promise me you'll come back to me?"

He kissed her, holding her close.  _ "Always, my love. Always." _


End file.
